


Moving On

by zanthe



Series: Mechanics [8]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanthe/pseuds/zanthe
Summary: Nestled in a page of an old journal sits a final message from Dickson.
Relationships: Egil/Shulk (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Series: Mechanics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767211
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> As usual it's 1 am and I went in with a solid idea and then got derailed. Enjoy.

Ten years ago, life was bleaker. Unbearable, almost. Egil persisted for the sake of revenge, wholeheartedly consumed by hatred, anger, sorrow. Desperate in an effort for self-preservation, to protect what remained of Mechonis and its people, no matter the cost. In the end, he had somewhat succeeded, though not in the way he’d originally planned.

His people were safe, happy now. He had caused them much pain himself, and yet they did not hate him. On the contrary, they had all sighed a deep breath of relief the day he set foot within their little village on the Fallen Arm. Miqol, of all others, he expected to scorn him. To turn his head, in disgusted disappointment, and tell him he was no son of his. But his father beckoned him closer, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, and pulled him into a hug. He could hear his father cry.

But Egil did not cry. No, he had been much too empty at the time. The only emotions that had held him together had been dispelled, and the flicker of hope left in him still needed time to be rekindled. He was mostly unsure, then, of how to carry on with nothing more than a spark. He persisted, however, watched the death of a second god, and the rise of a third, even if that lasted mere minutes. 

Said ex-god was nestled now in his arms, staring down at an old journal. The penmanship was clean, and definitely not his own, and Egil wondered but didn’t ask of the book's origins, still deep in thought. 

Time had gone by slowly, and watching the world grow had revitalized his spirit. Dedicating himself to helping others had given him new purpose. Aiding reparations where he could, meeting new people, and even making a few friends had helped mend his mind and heart. Though those both were still a work in progress, and would probably take many years more to reach a point in which he could comfortably say he was truly well. For now, he was simply better, better than he was ten years ago, and that was enough. 

Something warm dripped onto his hand, the one that was currently placed over Shulk’s chest, and it brought him out of his thoughts to look over the Hom’s head. He seemed to have tensed, now that he was paying attention, hands firmly clasped over each side of the journal he’d been reading, trembling. 

“Shulk? Are you alright?” He whispered, sitting up a little when Shulk placed the journal to the side and turned to bury his face in Egil’s chest, choking back sobs. Curiously, he glanced at it, but didn’t reach for it just yet. Instead, he did his best to comfort Shulk, making gentle sounds and caressing his hair. “What’s the matter?” He soothed, and the Homs shook his head a little, too choked up for words. 

“Read the journal,” he managed to say between sniffles, and finally Egil reached over, holding it at a good distance to begin reading over the page that had caused such a reaction.

_ I suppose I’m dead, if you’re reading this.  _ It began, and Egil quirked a brow.  _ I know it won’t seem like it, but if that’s the case, Shulk, I’m proud of you. I mean look at you! You’ve gone and grown your own consciousness, though I guess that’s no surprise, you’ve always been quite the tough one.  _

_ Coming back from the dead twice isn’t a small feat, wish I could do the same just to see what kinda man you grow up to be, one to be proud of I’m sure. But it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m not sorry for what I’ve done in the slightest, I made my promise long ago, and you know I’m a man of my word. Can’t say I didn’t feel anything though, when I pulled the trigger. I’m not exactly deserving of being called some sorta ‘father’ to you, but I did raise you, Shulk, and I had hoped maybe, should you survive, you could have joined us. Of course, I already know your answer to that, ‘That’s a load of bullshit, Dickson.’  _

_ An’ I couldn’t be prouder of that. Stick it to the man, and remember what I’ve taught you. Goodbye, Shulk. _

__ He closed the journal, frowning. A letter from Zanza’s disciple. He knew little of their relationship, Shulk would always go silent at the mention of Dickson, and Egil would never press such a delicate subject unprompted. 

“I hate him,” Shulk hissed, fingers hooking around Egil’s chest plating as he clenched his fists. “Or, at least, I wish I did…” He breathed out, relaxed a little in his grip. “I thought I’d moved on, so I picked up some of his old journals and started reading them, I never expected…” He sobbed again, and Egil hushed him softly, holding him close. “I wish I’d seen it sooner…” 

“Would you have been any more prepared?” Egil asked and Shulk shook his head ‘no’. “Then it matters not. “It’s ok to have a longing for those who’ve hurt you in the past,” his voice was soft, “you miss the days before. The days when you were happy. I understand that. You  _ have  _ moved on, Shulk. The proof is in the world you’ve helped nurture since day one.” 

Shulk remained silent, relaxing in his hold until at last it seemed he had calmed. “I don’t know how to feel,” he whispered, “about him being ‘proud’ of me. It’s like his last ‘fuck you,’ to me, even if he probably meant it. I don’t want him to mean it, y’know?” He traced idle circles on Egil’s chest as he spoke, “It feels like… it undermines my growth, if that makes sense.” 

“You grew despite him, and his statement of being proud of you for it shatters your own sense of pride towards it. Yes, that makes sense, but,” Egil pulled him up closer to his face, nuzzling his forehead in a way that made the blond chuckle weakly, “he wrote that ten years ago, and he’s not here to haunt you. You’ve grown more than he could ever know, and continue to every day, and we couldn’t be prouder, could we?” 

“I guess,” Shulk half-smiled, grinned when Egil pinched his cheek lightly, “hey!” 

“What are you going to do about it?” Egil hummed, and Shulk batted his hand away and stuck his tongue out at him. 

“Cry, maybe?” He replied, and Egil huffed. 

“Your eyes are going to hurt in the morning.” He mumbled, wiping away a tear from Shulk’s face and leaning forward to peck his forehead. 

“Can’t help that,” Shulk sighed, sinking back against him, “I wonder if I should just burn those old journals. It’s not like they’re much help now.” He frowned, and Egil went back to stroking his back gently. 

“Would it help you move forward?” Egil questioned, and Shulk hummed a drowsy ‘I dunno,’ suddenly feeling sleepy. “Perhaps a word with Dunban, first,” he suggested, “It would possibly help to discuss this with him, I’m not terribly good at offering advice.” 

“Maybe,” the Homs sighed, “and don’t worry about that, I’ve learned just talking about it helps. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Egil smiled, kissing his forehead once more, “You know I’m here for you.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled back, closing his eyes. “What were you thinking about, earlier?” He asked, looking for a new topic. 

“I was thinking about how far we’ve come in the last ten years,” Egil rested his hand on his back, tapping his fingers. “A lot has changed. I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Everything is different, in a pleasant way, even if certain tradesmen grind my gears beyond measure.” Shulk snorted at that, and he continued. “In a way, I was thinking about you, as well. It’s thanks to you that I’m here, now, after all.” With his other hand he ruffled Shulk’s hair playfully, earning a pout from him. “And yes, I plan to pester you all night until you’ve cheered up.” 

“What if I decide it’s time to go to sleep?” Shulk huffed. 

“I suppose I’d respect that,” Egil narrowed his eyes, “and be a nuisance tomorrow.” 

“Revenge is sweet, huh?” Shulk chuckled, shifting to get more comfortable and letting out a tired yawn. 

“Hardly as sweet as you.” Egil grinned and placed a blanket over them. 

“Sap.”

“Oaf.”

“Dork.”

“Goodnight, Shulk.” He kissed Shulk’s forehead one last time.

“G’night.”


End file.
